


Orange Colored Sky

by oathkeeping



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, One Shot Collection, Reunions, clothing thievery, pairings and characters will be updated as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oathkeeping/pseuds/oathkeeping
Summary: Collection of Fallout 4 drabbles that I've done on my tumblr. There are only a few of them yet, but I have several more coming up. Multiple pairings, characters.





	1. the lucky shirt (strong, female sole survivor)

Good clothing is a rarity. Sure, clothing could almost always be looted from dead bodies, found in every corner of the Commonwealth – abandoned, forgotten or simply laid to rest with it’s owner, but stuff in decent shape that didn’t require heavy amounts of washing, or to be put out it’s misery and used for it’s material… was rare. 

Call it her “pre-war manners” that her friends would occasionally question (why use silverware when your hands and fingers work just as well?), but Evangeline enjoyed being clean. To be able to change her clothing after a long hard day of working cases with Nick or fighting raiders… the grime wasn’t fun to sit around with. It felt itchy on her skin, and the smell could be nose turning.

Maybe it was a little self indulgent, and certainly shallow, even – but she wasn’t going to give up on trying to uphold some aspects of her life before the wasteland, just because they were no longer considered as important as they were before. People survived, she couldn’t fault them for putting that first in their priorities, or using what they were given. 

It was because of that, that she kept her things well organized. Neat and orderly. The bedroom that she shared with Preston was fixed up as much as it possibly could have been and clean, and he did his part to keep it that way (even if sometimes his socks would, as if by magic, wind up under the bed in the morning).

The few missing shirts are recognizable, but only one of them had been one she’d considered good and liked enough to wear on her days to just walk around Sanctuary, when there wasn’t someone off needing her held – like today happened to be. She'd ask Preston if he saw it when he got back. It bothered her little, but it isn’t until she’s rounding the corner and coming to face with one super mutant does everything make sense to her. 

“Strong? Is that _my_ shirt?” 

Not many people would feel safe around a super mutant. Understandably so, despite the fact that they were once human - they are among the worst things encountered in the wasteland. Even Hancock and Nick were wary of the big guy, the recent addition to Sanctuary. Evangeline still allowed him to stay, despite the others’ warnings. So far, he didn’t try anything like eating anyone (not that he didn’t threaten it when annoyed enough), and in return, nobody tried to shoot him (even if Danse offered/threatened whenever he came through, which was less and less these days - perhaps for the best), so there was that. No, apparently so far the only thing he’d done was take her laundry off the clothesline. As evidenced by the striped blue scraps of material around his arm. He wasn’t so much as wearing it, just pieces of it. 

“Strong look for puny human! She have lucky shirt, Strong take so he can find Milk of Human Kindness!” The shirt in question had been the one she called a lucky shirt, it was true. Jokingly, after nearly getting shot and being saved by the button placement. 

“You can’t just go into someone’s things and take their stuff, Strong. Have you been going through other people’s things, as well?” She crossed her arms, holding her ground. _Please don’t shoot or eat me_. Faced down some of the biggest threats the land had to offer, only to be killed in her own backyard by a super mutant she’d let in. Irony. At least Piper would have a good story tomorrow, about the pre-war vault dweller who's own kindness got her killed, what a shame.

Thankfully, that’s not what happens. He blinks at her. Guilty. “… No?” 

Great, more complaints that she's going to need to hear tonight. She's going to need to lay some ground rules down. “Alright, alright. Keep the shirt. We’ll go look for that milk in a bit, and I’ll get you a lucky shirt of your own. How's that sound?” 

Hearing the mutant agree and raise his fist in the air is enough of a confirmation, she turns and sighs, starting the walk back to her home. Perhaps she’d need to better guard her things.


	2. Make Me (Nora/Cait)

The road has been a long one, for the General – her feet ache, her back aches. Hell, even her hair aches. Nora blinks at her travelling partner who is much less bothered by the trek. 

Her hair is in need of a wash in the absolute worst way. She passes the gate to Sanctuary with a nod towards Preston on the watch. Piper gives her a halfhearted wave as she bids her goodbye – the reporter is already writing an article in her head, no doubt. It’s good to be back. A week on the road to deal with some raiders and pick up on a lead for Nick… everyone does their part here, so she can’t complain.

Well, _too much_. 

The walk towards her house is a quiet one, but she relishes it. She hasn’t had much of that lately, but it’s getting better. Making a difference, people are starting to take notice. Less is on her shoulders, people are happier, safer, even. 

Codsworth greets her with a “Good Evening, Mum!”, Dogmeat barks, running up to her for attention. 

After dispersing them both, the first place that she goes is to the bathroom. After a lot of hard work, they’d managed to get some manner of indoor plumbing working again. It meant showers. Actual showers. Not cold water in a bucket outside and hoping nobody walks in on you, or bathing in a river and hoping that you're quick enough to not soak up too many rads. 

Nora has to admit – out of everything they could have brought back from before the war, showers have to be the best idea. Sturges was a goddamned hero in her book for pulling it off, how she’ll never know. Washing her hair with a bar of soap (what she wouldn't give for some shampoo but for now, this is fine), scrubbing down takes longer than it should but it’s worth it when she steps out into the cold bathroom and towels off. 

Or she would towel off, if it weren’t currently in the hands of one former Combat Zone fighter. Cait raises an appreciative brow and Nora goes slightly red, even though it's hardly the first time she's been naked around Cait - there's something in the way she looks at her that makes her feel... all a flutter. “Well, I figured since ya didn’t come say hello that I’d pop by for a visit. See I caught ya at a good time, and I must say I’m enjoyin’ the view.” 

Nora reaches for the towel. “I had radroach gunk in my hair that I wanted to get out first. It’s freezing in here, can I have that back?” 

Cait’s smile grows deeper as she steps away, out of her reach, holding the fluffy towel behind her back. “Why don’t ya come over here and make me?” 

A breathy chuckle is her response to that. “I think you kind of have the advantage of over me when it comes to that…” Still, Nora moves closer, almost pressed to Cait. She reaches around her, but the other woman beats her to the chase. Strong arms wrap her around her smaller frame, and she looks up into hazel eyes. So much clearer now, now that she’d laid off the chems. 

But still her Cait. 

Her hands wander up to the back of the other woman’s head, in her bright red hair, stepping up on her tip toes to kiss her. Thankfully the other woman gets the hint, meeting her halfway. The kiss is sloppy, rushed, full of longing from time away, prospective time to be made up. “I missed you,” she mutters against her mouth as the kiss breaks up. 

“Missed ya too, now why don’t we get you dried off, I could think of a better way of warmin ya up…” 

Nora smiles as Cait wraps the towel around her shoulders, taking her hand as the other woman leads her into the bedroom.


	3. anywhere i go (preston/sturges)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-game post Quincy hurt/comfort drabble that was supposed to be a feature length fic (it might become one later) of my two favorite guys. UGH I love this pairing so much I already read like. Everything I could get my hands on.

He’s always been a bit on the observant side. Maybe it’s the mechanic in him, analyzing, trying to come up with a solution to whatever problem that needed fixing, what tools would best fit, parts he’d need, how long it’d take… but people are different. There’s no quick fix, or proper tools. But it’s no less easy to spot, particularly when the person in question is the one who’s running himself into the ground to keep them alive. 

Sturges doubts that anyone else notices, everyone is too wrapped up in their own pain, misery – and he can’t say he blames them. Hell, not two weeks ago he had a functional garage, a comfortable place to sleep, roof over his head and enough food to eat. Steady supply of caps. He’s just one of many forced out of their home cause a couple a gunners took the place over and killed everyone that stood in their way, and even those that didn’t - just cause they could. 

It’d be easy to fall into that misery, himself. It gnaws at him every morning, but he keeps himself busy, working – smiling, even.

Somehow, he doubts that even Preston realizes what he’s doing. Hadn’t known the guy all that long, met only briefly before the shooting started, he’d been warm and smiling, hadn’t minded shaking his hand when the Colonial introduced his Lieutenant to them as the one that’d be coordinating with them in case things went south - grease and oil still staining his gloves afterwards. Now the traces of that man were gone, so focused on survival and keeping these people alive. Each loss seemed to take something out of him personally.

And there’d been a lot of losses. Settlers, and the rest of the Minutemen that had been with Preston when they’d arrived to help Quincy. 

Marcy doesn’t say anything as she hands him a bowl of molerat stew – these days she’s either silent or angry, and somehow he prefers the anger. If silence and grief sits heavy on her, it’s even more of a visible weight on her husband. Gone were his cheerful neighbors. At least they were still alive, that puts them a step up above most of the others they’d left behind, their son Kyle included. Sturges had watched that kid, he’d helped out at the shop from time to time.

Like clockwork, his eyes roam around to the room for a familiar hat, watching as the man offered his own bowl to a young woman. Even at a distance he could see her, trying to pass the food back to him, but he shook his head with a smile. Stubborn. He watches as Preston picks up his musket, and walks outside. Same as usual. He approaches Marcy again.

“Hey, you mind if I grab another bowl… no, it aint for me…”

–

The air is chilly, it’s dark and quiet out. Sitting on the front steps of the small office they’d found is their leader, drinking a bottle of Nuka Cola, and eating a couple pieces of jerky, looking out over the wasteland at night.

“Hey, boss. Mind if I join you?” Sturges makes sure to announce his presence with loud footsteps, not wanting to startle him and wind up a pile of ash on the cement. He’s seen that laser musket in action enough, thank you very much.

Preston looks up, nodding. “Yeah, alright.” He doesn’t say anything again until he’s settled next to him, even in the dark he can tell… up close Preston looks tired, worn. Like he’s aged several years in a short period of time. Running on little sleep, little food all the while dealing with betrayal and trying to keep a group of people alive will do that to a person. “Brought you somethin’, in case you hadn’t had anything yet.” He puts the bowl of stew in between them, nodding to the other man.

Surprise is written on the younger man’s face, as if he hadn’t expected the concern, maybe he hadn’t realized that anyone noticed his sudden departures during meals (he himself had only noticed a few days earlier, he’s sorry to say). The look is gone quickly, replaced by a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s fine… I’m not… I’m not hungry.” Sturges’ heart drops a little, and he shakes his head. He’s not gonna force him if he’s not up to it, but… “Look, boss. You’re tired, I can see that. How’d you expect to go on like this if you aren’t even takin’ care of yourself?” It might be a low blow, but he’s worried. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else, and while they haven’t known each other very long… he feels like the world might be a little darker place without this one in it. Sides, Sturges likes to think that all they’ve been through during the last two weeks is enough to count him as someone he cares about.

He just hopes that Preston can see that.

A pause, a long moment of considering his words. “Alright.” Preston reaches for the bowl, Sturges hasn’t moved his hand – their fingers brush, and he feels something like a spark, as brief as the moment was before he’s pulled the bowl towards him. They eat in silence, Preston, about halfway through the bowl as he’s finished his – looks up at him and smiles. A real smile, the kind that’s hard to look at and feel anything but warmth. For a moment, he almost forgets

“Sturges? Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me prompts! Send an ask to grimgrinningghoul on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests! My tumblr is [here](http://grimgrinningghoul.tumblr.com/), if you'd like to shoot me an ask.


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